


Old Guard

by TheEvangelion



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Abo smut, Alpha Lena, Alpha Lena Luthor, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, F/F, GP Lena, GP Lena Luthor, Lena Luthor GP, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, Lesbian Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Old Guard AU, Old Guard Supercorp, Omega Kara Danvers, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, SuperCorp, Supercorp ABO, Supercorp Old Guard, lesbian smut, omega kara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27436306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEvangelion/pseuds/TheEvangelion
Summary: [One Shot] Lena is an ancient eternal warrior with a few simple missions: do not die any more than necessary, and never stay in the same place for more than a few weeks at a time. After Kara Danvers dies and comes back to life, Lena shows her the ropes of the immortality thing and finds herself with a companion for the first time in... a long time.Lena is an Alpha, Kara is an Omega, and the attraction becomes palpable.(After a century or so, of course.)
Relationships: Kara Danvers & Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 29
Kudos: 678





	Old Guard

_Prompt: Can I request an ABO Supercorp story with Lena as the alpha please? Maybe rockstar/actress Lena or something based on The Old Guard? (Sorry, I don't think I'm as creative as the others when it comes to prompts)_

_Old Guard AU Lena/Kara ABO_

She’s a woman thrown beyond the boundaries of time. Lena doesn’t even vaguely remember what it is to be human anymore. To have a mother, a father, to experience a first, a last, to fear, to love; to have both wrapped up in the complex fragility of one another.

In the fleeting embrace of death, the singular moment where her soul knows quietude, the rush of air diving back into her stalled lungs always comes unwanted and too sudden.

Lena doesn’t remember what it is to be human, but she remembers what it’s like to be born. Again and again, always against her will, endless times and yet still an aeon more of it to come, she’s now certain of that.

Andy was perhaps the only other with the accumulated years under her belt to empathise with her predicament. Andy’s take was that when it was the right time, the cycle of rebirth would simply stop, as it had with others they had met and knew before. A last glorious war, a final valiant fight, and then peace. Finally, _just a little peace_.

Six thousand years later, and Lena still felt that was Andy’s youth showing.

“So, how old are you?” The newling curled up inside the sleeping bag prods for more details. “You must be pretty old, right?”

Lena had felt Kara come back to life like a ripple in the water. It was like a push from the universe that could not be ignored. The CatCo building had caught fire and collapsed and then burned some more for good measure, the rescue crews were called off after a week, and while the recovery mission was organised, that brief interim was when Lena made her move and dug through the rubble like a woman with precise coordinates — following the pull of her instincts until she found a set of wiggling fingers in the debris that had been entombed beneath the blaze.

It had taken a good long while, a lot of explaining, a lot of tears, and then a bullet between her eyes just to prove she really was immortal and Lena wasn’t playing a strange joke, but Kara was finally settling. Lena kept a gun on her hip in case she got other ideas, but that was becoming more redundant by the day.

“Lena?” Kara waves to get her attention. “I know it’s rude to ask a lady her age but given the circumstances…”

“Get some sleep, Kara.” Lena pinches the bridge of her nose and tries not to reach for the gun. “It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow, please go to sleep.”

“But we’re invincible?” Kara doesn’t understand the rules yet, despite Lena having explained the big ones no less than six times and counting. “A late night won’t kill us,” she reasons.

“Yes, but we’re not fucking saints and I want to get some sleep. We have all the time in the world for questions, trust me—” Lena knows it better than anyone, she thinks to herself grumpily. “Just, please go to sleep.”

“Two thousand. Higher or lower?” The estimate makes Lena suddenly laugh despite her bad mood. It tickles her, really tickles her. “Okay, so, not two thousand. Got it.” Kara nods decisively.

“Nowhere near two thousand.” Lena rolls the other way and closes her eyes. “Now go to sleep.”

It’s the truth; in a roundabout, complicated, technically correct kind of way. Two thousand years was child’s play.

***

In dreams, the memories of ages long before rush back thick and fast. The Library of Alexandria burns like a silent world on fire, lost to the smoke, and Lena watches from afar and feels nothing. A weary traveller trudging the scenic route, she’s already old enough to know she’ll see it rise again one day.

Her dream folds in on itself. Alexandria fades as quickly as the day it burned. She finds herself in a new place, a mathematical impossibility, but she doesn’t recognise her surroundings and so she rationalises that it’s simply from a time before the boundary. Her mind will only allow her to remember so far back. A few civilisations, and then it gets blurry.

A woman sits nude facing the water with her knees pulled to her chest, her dark brown hair is damp and curling at the ends. Lena craves to reach out and touch it. She knows and yet does not know, feels and yet feels nothing, her heart remembers this woman but her brain… too much time has passed.

When the woman turns and smiles, her almond-shaped eyes glittering, a knot of guilt forms in Lena’s belly without context. She has no questions. The thumping of her heart, the strange stillness of a constant wardrum that beats in the back of her head, Lena understands perfectly well who they are to one another.

Her teeth remember the pressure of her shoulderblade. The name of her mate doesn’t spring to mind. The wetness on her cheeks tells her that, despite too much time having passed between now and then, they knew happiness with one another.

An eternal measure of it.

***

Six months in, Kara’s third rebirth is a doozy.

Kara is starting to get the hang of it, Lena thinks. A dozen more and the process won’t be so terrifying. Ironically, it’s a car barrelling down the side road in search of nothing more than a cut-through that does it. It sends them careening high into the air. And, of course, what goes up must come back down.

It’s a combination of terminal velocity and gravity that kill them today, no valiant battles this time. The car speeds away before they even start to stir back.

Lena awakes to life with a hard gasp and the sensation of a shattered bone cracking itself back together. She hates that. The way her soul comes back to her corporeal vessel before it’s finished healing. When her elbow pops back in place, when the gash on her forehead knits and fades, she takes a few acclimating breaths and stumbles over to the broken body some metres away.

Kara looks like a frightened little girl, Lena thinks as she hovers over the newling in order to appraise the damage. On the outside, Lena shows no symptom of sympathy.

Kara’s neck is broken at such a hideous crooked angle that she cannot move the rest of her body, all the newling can do is wait for the healing, wait and then wait some more. It’s taking its time. Kara’s eyes are wide with terror, utterly helpless, trained on Lena as though with all her years and experience she might be able to remedy this.

“The first few are slow,” Lena says mutely, then glances at her chipped fresh red manicure. She’ll have to get it touched up when they’re finished here, which is an inconvenience. “Don’t fight the pain,” Lena comes back with a glare. “The more you fight, the longer it takes.”

When the snapped cervical spine unfucks itself with a satisfying pop, Kara’s nervous system slowly begins to work again. Lena watches her fingers twitch, then her toes, an agonised groan, the newling comes back to herself in bits and pieces.

“That wasn’t like the last two times.” Kara blinks and stays prone on the floor, horrified and utterly quiet in the way she says it. “I couldn’t. I was in agony and I couldn’t move—”

Lena sighs and scoops her jet black hair into a ponytail off her face. “The last one was a bullet, quick and easy, and this wasn’t that.” She shrugs.

“I couldn’t fucking move!” Kara snaps loudly, as though her reality is dawning on her all at once. “I was in agony and I… I couldn’t make a sound. That isn’t,” Kara scratches her head, dumbfounded. “That isn’t invincible.”

“I tried to tell you that being invincible doesn’t mean being _invincible_.” Lena refuses to join the pity parade, she simply extends her hand to help the idiot up. “Dying sucks. Coming back to life sucks more. Welcome to your forever. Do you still want waffles for lunch or no?”

“You’re repulsive,” Kara spits beneath her breath.

“You should consider yourself lucky.” Lena darkens, leaning in to emphasise her point. “There’s others like us, at least half-a-dozen of them these days, they’re like a merry band of men who rush to die for other people’s squabbles. If your soul had called to one of them… if they had found you…” Lena shakes her head, remembering the days when she too was a wardog for hire. “Rest assured, if they don’t find death then death certainly finds them.”

“And we don’t do that?!”

“Hit and runs aside, I only die when it’s important, which means you only die when it’s important. That’s step one of not snapping your fucking neck every other weekend.”

“Whatever you say boss,” Kara pushes past her, trudging down the side street with a hand rubbing the back of her neck. “You’re paying for the waffles.”

“Over your dead body,” Lena mutters beneath her breath.

***

Lena pays for the waffles.

She feels pity, but most of all she feels guilt, and it’s the only way her body will let her express it. Plus, she has a two-for-one coupon.

She doesn’t tell Kara that part.

***

Home for now is an abandoned industrial building down in the textiles quarter. During the day the city is so busy that it’s easy to get lost in the crowd and that’s important for longevity’s sake. At night, however, the street outside is so empty that a pin drop can be heard from one end of the road all the way to the other.

That too is important for longevity’s sake.

Belly full of waffles, Kara curls by the oil heater on her camping cot like a puppy licking her wounds — or substantial lack thereof. There are seldom possessions that Lena travels with, she tells herself it’s because she has outgrown materialness, but she tosses on the uncomfortable cot and stares at her hold-all bag wishing for an Advil or an extra pillow to miraculously appear.

“So you’re not two-thousand,” Kara mentions with a curious expression, drudging up a conversation that had been parked some six months ago.

“No, not two-thousand.” Lena gives nothing away.

“Where were you born? Will you tell me that much?”

“That’s a complicated answer.”

“How is that possibly complicated?” Kara asks, and Lena doesn’t know how to explain the rise and fall of lost civilisations, nomadic settlements, or the fact that she simply… doesn’t remember specifics anymore.

“What’s known today as Ireland.” Lena tries to be approximate but knows she’s hazarding nothing more than an educated guess.

“You don’t have the accent.” Kara’s eyes glimmer with amusement.

“It wasn’t Ireland when I was born there.” Lena smiles.

“Do we still have heat cycles or is that incompatible with the whole immortality thing—” The question takes Lena aback with how out of left-field it is.

The little idiot just laughs at her expression like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

“I don’t know about heat cycles but… I still have my cycle, sometimes.” Lena remains indifferent, disconnected, forcefully disinterested almost. “It’s not as bad for us though. It takes a long time, but stops being so intense, stops being so frequent, it’s barely a tickle for me anymore.”

“What do you mean you don’t know about heat cycles?” Kara’s eyebrows do the thing.

“I’m not an Omega. I don’t have a heat cycle, I go into rut.”

“Into rut?” Kara becomes confused.

“ _I’m an Alpha_.” Lena stares as though she’s stupid.

“Oh.” Kara’s eyes go wide. “Oh. That… makes sense.” She nods, gulping. “That makes a lot of sense. Sure, yes, of course. I don’t know,” she laughs awkwardly. “I don’t know why I assumed you were an Omega—”

“Because you’re an infant, you’re unworldly, you know only what you have been taught. Yes, female Alphas exist. Yes, that is why I don’t get changed in front of you. Well done for putting two and two together, Miss Journalist, some of your finest investigative work right there.”

Lena can’t help but smirk at the way Kara blushes crimson.

“Goodnight, Kara.” Lena lies down and savours the silence.

“Goodnight!” Kara peeps and rolls over.

Sweet, _sweet_ silence. Or at least almost-silence.

Lena makes the most of it and drifts to sleep.

***

1969\. In the Carolinas, the heat burns and hammers down on the tightly-packed road like a vengeful god, as though the sun is hideously jealous that the humans are visiting the moon, but nobody seems to care about the hot weather, they’re all too excited for the rocket launch.

The traffic chugs for a bit, slowly, stopping before picking up again. Lena feels the sweat drip down her spine, feels her white cotton gloves dampen between her palms and the steering wheel, she won’t make it home in time to see lift off at this rate.

When Lena glances to the passenger seat, when she takes sudden stock of the woman sat beside her, that’s when she realises that she’s dreaming — or maybe remembering. The trouble is, she’s remembering two different times that are bleeding into one dream. It makes things… confusing.

“Well you’re a long way from home,” Lena whispers to herself, dumbly.

The ancient woman with her cornflower blue eyes sits buckled in and smirking, though she says nothing in response. She never speaks. Lena wonders whether it’s just because even the deepest parts of her subconscious have long forgotten her mate’s voice.

This unknown timeless woman, this maddening beloved woman that cannot be remembered despite the constant craving for it, she is sat in the front seat of a 1965 Chevrolet Impala, flung far from her time. In dreams, the forgotten disjointed past of Lena’s life knits itself together in the strangest of abstract fashions. It’s funny, but most of all it’s sad.

This dream amuses Lena though, enough so that the yearning for a voice to talk back and forth with isn’t so sharply missed as it usually is.

“Did we have children?” Lena dares to ask it anyway, then she turns her head to face the traffic on the road despite it not being real.

The unknown woman softly lifts her hand. Lena peers that way, holding her breath. A boy and a girl skip and play with their faces pointed in the opposite direction, both of them with the same jet black floppy hair and scrawny legs. There’s no faces to look upon, nothing to jolt her heart into remembering what can’t be remembered, but that jet black hair…

Lena knows.

Lena understands.

The dream begins to fold in on itself. It takes everything to hold on for precious seconds but Lena does just that, she grips the steering wheel and stares at them, praying for them to turn, praying to long dead deities that she might remember their faces.

When the horizon blurs, when the sky melts to nothing, she accepts reality begrudgingly. “Well,” Lena takes one last look and smiles at the woman who calms the wardrum in her head. “I hope they had your eyes.”

***

“Kill me.” Kara grimaces, her pale sweating face pressing harder into the pillow. “Kill me, kill me, kill me, please god let me die,” she murmurs, muffled but persistent.

“That isn’t within your skill-set I’m afraid.”

“Kill me,” Kara whines in pain.

“Do you have to be so fucking annoying?” Lena shoots a stern look from her cot. “I’m trying to read.” She nods down to her book.

“Annoying?” Kara thrashes her limbs against the restraints. “I’m the one tied up!”

“Because you’re in heat.” Lena boredly turns back to her book. “You’re going to live for a very, very, very long time. That… that is not conducive to being a mother. I’m doing you a favour, really.”

“You think I’m just going to let the first Alpha I meet knot me?” Kara accusingly narrows her pained expression. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Lena.”

“I don’t think you’ll let the first Alpha you meet rut you. I mean, I’m still here.” Her mocking smirk widens a bit. “But what I am willing to bet money on? I think you would slope off like an alley cat and call one of your ex-boyfriends to take care of your problem. That isn’t a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Why would it be such a bad thing if I did?” Kara blinks dumbly.

“Well, for a start, everyone is under the assumption Kara Danvers died heroically when the CatCo building collapsed. It’s bad for continuity if she shows up now, two years later, unscathed and horny.” Lena sighs at the idiot, too blinded with her heat to notice the obvious. “Secondly, we’re not carrying a baby through sociopolitical unrest inside a papoose. I don’t know your position on children. I don’t want to know, either.” She shoots Kara a warning glare. “So, you’re staying tied up.”

“Four times, Lena! You’ve done this to me four times now!” Kara thrashes a bit harder. “You’re just going to keep tying me up every time I come into heat for the rest of eternity?”

“No, not for the rest of eternity.” Lena looks to the ceiling, doing the math, figuring a rough time frame before Kara is old enough to be in better control of her hormones, and for everyone who knew Kara Danvers to be long dead along with their children for good measure. “A hundred and fifty years, maybe?”

“A hundred and fifty years?” Kara balks.

“Trust me.” Lena flicks the page of her book, unbothered. “It will feel like months. I mean, how long does it feel like you’ve known me already?”

“I feel like I don’t know you at all.” Kara hisses.

“That’s the spirit, princess.”

***

Twenty-two years might sound like a long period but for Lena it was comparable to weeks, if not maybe days. Yet, that was how long it took for her to break. That was how long it had taken for Kara to endear herself to such an extent that Lena… there was no denying it anymore. She was starting to feel bad.

“Please!” Kara wails, bucking her hips off the bed in tiny stuttery thrusts. “Please make it stop, please, please touch me—”

“You know how this thing goes,” Lena reminds her softly, her eyes fixated on a sentence she had re-read at least four times but wasn’t absorbing. “Third day is always the worst, it won’t suck so bad tomorrow. You’ll be back to making coherent sentences, then we’ll be on the home stretch.” She flicked the page.

It did nothing to soothe the sobbing, wailing, sweating little creature who had long since kicked her pants and underwear off. Kara always did that and Lena understood why despite never asking. The sensation of the material against her agonised body was too stimulating and simultaneously not stimulating enough. When Kara was tied down in such a way that she couldn’t wriggle out of her underthings, Lena helped. She never looked, never lingered with her eyes, never made it _a thing_ — she just helped it not suck so bad, or at least that’s what she told herself it was all about.

A kindness.

Benevolent and altruistic.

But whenever the taste of Kara’s sweat and pheromones permeated the air, Lena finds it more difficult to make it stick in her brain. Kara smells so feminine and soft, so lustful and delicate, and though Lena would never dream of acting on it, she is starting to enjoy it a bit more than she should.

Tonight, she enjoys it so much that she has to prop her knee up on the cot and tilt her hips away, positioning the book just so; hiding a throbbing erection that had just popped for the first time in…

Lena doesn’t remember how long it’s been.

She remembers that there were horse-drawn carriages. And, that the last woman who caused one had worn a white bonnet and a dress that cheekily came up around her ankles — a thrill, to be certain.

“Lena,” Kara spreads her thighs wide, hips pressing higher, abdominals rippling in cramping waves. “Lena! Lena please,” a sob wracks her throat, and she offers her cunt to the air. “Please make it stop, Lena. Please—”

The sound of her name on the little godlet’s tongue does things to Lena’s body. Automatic things. The push-pull mechanics of muscle memories that she had long thought herself outgrown and beyond the whim.

Lena puts the book down and feels a deep and dark rage stir inside of herself; an angry, nasty, violent and virulent storm. On the outside, it’s nothing more than flinch of her eyes and a reflexive shift of her weight on the cot. On the inside, she is a whole screaming world on fire that yearns to consume and devour Kara too.

She had forgotten what it felt like to rut.

But, Lena remembers now.

“Lena!” Kara’s voice wobbles with want, her teeth chattering together, brow pale and sweaty. “Please. Please—just fucking touch me!”

The next thing Lena knows, she is staring down the barrel of Kara’s taut and spread thighs. Stood at the end of the cot, her legs are rooted there, unmoving, stiff and defiant of her brain willing her to walk away. Kara just trembles and breathes, suddenly silent as though the mere presence of her is soothing in and of itself.

Lena feels every muscle ripple through her body at once, feels a tiny lightning storm shift across her skin and spine in electrified tingles, it makes everything in her body contract, it makes her cock ache and press against her jeans. She wants to give Kara what she wants, she wants to give the little crybaby all and _more_.

“Please!” Kara grows more frantic again, craving for thrusts and teeth. “Please please please—”

Lena holds her breath until her cheeks grow blue, until her head spins, until she feels she has given herself a headstart on a solution removed from Kara’s pheromones which are sending pleasure chemicals riding high through her brain.

“It’s been two decades! Why do you always do this to me!” Kara grits her teeth, pink-cheeked, hurting, and it makes Lena’s heart sink.

Kara knew well and good why it was Lena tied her up and left her to work through her internal processes. Kara had understood _why_ years ago. When she wasn’t drunken with her heat she agreed it was the best solution to problems neither of them wanted on their hands. But, that wasn’t what Kara meant. It wasn’t what she was asking and they both knew it.

Lena wants to tell Kara how long its been for her too since she felt the deep hard pull of attraction towards a possible mate.

She wants to explain that—no matter how hard she wracks her brain—she doesn’t remember the way her teeth feel when they’re resting on skin. Lena’s fingertips have ached for the touch of a woman for… at least a millenia, she thinks. It’s been so long since she fucked someone that it has now become too long, and too unremembered.

She has unlearned the art of touching a woman the long way around.

There is a wardrum in her head, the same as all other Alphas during their rut but hers… it’s constant and neverending. It never stops. It never misses a beat. If Lena faintly remembers anything about sex then it’s the disappointment always felt the morning after — the drums pounded through her skull to no relief, despite her exhausted body giving everything and more, despite her best attempts to make them stop, and it was in these moments she felt most unhuman.

No woman has ever silenced the thudding, loud drums. No woman except for one—except for _the_ one—and Lena cannot remember name. It’s a lot to process, it’s too much to big of a crime to make Kara an accomplice too.

“It doesn’t have to be tomorrow,” Kara whimpers and twists her hips in an effort to reach her. “It can just be now, Lena? It can just be today, tonight, here and but never again?”

Lena feels her last bit of resolve shatter.

“Be still,” Lena chokes out the words and gently lowers Kara’s contorting hips with her calloused palms. “Just be still, be still and be quiet, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Lena makes herself a mantle to bare the weight of Kara’s suffering lightly. She does it with the flat of her hands.

She sits herself on the end of the cot, entirely herself, entirely herself despite the pounding drumming that calls her to war. She does nothing more than squeeze Kara’s shin. It’s all she feels capable of offering, and Kara makes an exception just this once and accepts it as enough.

“Thank you,” Lena sighs, her stiff cock softening a little.

A little silence… that’s all Lena wants after all.

***

Seventy years pass like a winter that had dug its heels in. The time was felt and yet still it pushed forward, begrudging and constant. In an abandoned train car on the outskirts of Kathmandu, they had been laying low while the political turbulence outside was resolved, or rather _being_ resolved in its own good time.

Andy and the gang were close by, Lena could feel it. Kara had never met the others who were like them. Lena knew better than to make introductions too soon. She was still young, still unburdened by the burden, and there would be time for heroics later on when she had some more years under her belt. Always, there would be time. _Always time if nothing else_.

The big problem that had them laying low wasn’t Andy and the boys anyway. It was the trouble that they were chasing, that had simultaneously been chasing them in turn. Lena and Kara had accidentally gotten caught up in it all simply because of proximity.

The militia were aware that there were mercenaries roaming and looking for a fight, they had set up road blocks and checkpoints around the city boundary. The militants had heard the stories, seen the blurry photos, and Lena had no doubts the militants had also heard the whispers of the wardogs who never died and a woman who led them to battle. It was a cautionary fairytale passed down for generations in this part of the world, and Lena vaguely remembers when she was the main-character of the fable.

Normally Lena would offer her services and help out but… these particular militants liked to cut off limbs. They liked to burn bodies, flay skin, do all manner of things that Lena very much didn’t want to slowly knit herself back together from. She was invincible, yes, but she only had access to the basic membership package. Lena still felt pain, still feared pain, still didn’t want the displeasure of hopping around looking for a leg that was taking its sweet time.

The train car would do for another night. Or at least Lena hoped it would only be one more night. Andy used to be able to deal with angry little militias in half an afternoon — but they had been stuck here for close to two days now. Apparently, Andy was getting sloppy.

Lena would pull her up about it next time they crossed paths.

“So,” Kara muses, picking her fingers and bored out of her brain. “You’re not two-thousand?” She comes back to a conversation that had been parked seventy years ago.

“Not two-thousand.” Lena shrugs.

“Three thousand?”

“Well thank you for ruining a gag I’ve been waiting half a century for.” Lena glares and puts down her book. “You were supposed to low ball me, then I would finally get to say I was older. You were supposed to have been shocked to silence, and I would have got to continue doing whatever it was doing before you inevitably distracted me. I waited seventy years just for you to ruin it. So thank you for that.”

“Okay, let’s—let’s try this a different way.” Kara rubs her temple “Four thousand, higher or lower?” She stares.

“Higher.”

“Fuck off.” Kara seems surprised. “How much higher?”

“That isn’t the game,” Lena reminds and picks her book back up.

“Five thousand?” Lena just smiles at that and flicks the page. “Six thousand?” Kara has a look on her face as though she believes none of it.

“Not six thousand.” Lena sighs mutely, shaking her head.

“Seven, higher or lower?”

“Higher.”

“Higher?!” Kara’s eyes grow wide and furious.

The game suddenly stops being fun, Lena realises. Kara looks terrified, as though she’s a ninety year old woman trapped in the cage of twenty-two year old girl and it’s just dawning on her that… she’s still a foetus, still a blink, still a single grain of sand and yet there is an entire desert’s worth of living to get through yet.

“You should get some sleep, Kara.” Lena nods toward the distance, there’s a fire now burning out near the city limits. “We’ll be out of here by morning. We can start making our way to the Bhutan border, get you some ema datshi, the food is to die for.” Lena wiggles her eyebrows and tries to make a joke of it, gathering her jet black hair into a scruffy tied-off pony.

“Eight thousand years is a long time,” Kara murmurs. “How much older than eight thousand?”

“I’m an exception, not the rule,” Lena doesn’t answer the question. “I travelled with a girl once who was only good for two hundred years, a few who went for five hundred, me and Andy... we’re long-haulers. You shouldn’t worry yourself. I wouldn’t put your mileage past six hundred.” Lena applied context where there was none — life simply went for as long as life decided it should.

“Alright,” Kara does her best impression of a somewhat soothed woman. “When did you meet Andy? Did you two ever…” Her eyes do the thing again, as though she wants to ask if they’ve ever fucked but she feels it would be inappropriate to outright say.

“You would have to ask Andy when you meet her, I don’t remember.”

“There’s too much you don’t remember,” Kara complains. “Do you even remember how old you exactly are?”

Lena closes her eyes and thinks, wracking her brain, really trying to find a concrete answer.

“Ask me a different question,” Lena becomes uncomfortable.

“Well if you’re as old as you say you are—” Kara halts, folding her arms, really thinking about it too. “Tell me something. Tell me a good story that the world forgot. You don’t get to ruin my night without salvaging it.”

“That the world forgot, huh?” Lena’s cheeks widen a bit. “Have I ever told you about the war elephants on the battlefields during the Hellenic invasion of Rome?”

“No!” Kara looks like an excited child, shifting and sitting upright all of a sudden. “But you better.”

***

Ninety years.

Kara hasn’t had a full-blown heat in nearly two decades, a new record that precedes the last by some two years and constantly counting.

The champagne moon hangs fervent and bright in the sky, it comes once every half-century and brings a primal wave of new life with it. The world shuts it doors and tightly locks itself in, like a global pandemic of sorts, one that thankfully only lasts for forty-eight hours. In nine months, there will be more children than there has been in living memory.

Lena tosses and turns beneath the love moon, erect and avoiding the pull of her rut like a plague, privately hoping for Kara to wake up sweating and whining with problems that requires her hands as a solution.

Kara just sleeps with tiny breathy snores, unaware and unbothered.

When Lena finally falls asleep too, she dreams of her mate for the first time in half a century.

The woman with a voice she can’t remember, with a smile that somehow cannot be forgotten, she sits on the edge of the lake and angrily plucks flowers out of the ground with her fingertips, refusing to look Lena in the eyes.

“Oh don’t you start,” Lena bristles in a dead language, willing herself to wake up. “You’ve been gone for more years than there are stars in the sky. She isn’t you—” Lena stops, she notices that the wardrum have strangely quietened. She closes her eyes and sighs, comforted by the silence. “She could never be you, my love, but she is solid.”

***

A hundred and five years.

In the bell tower of a derelict cathedral, on the outskirts of Provence, they had created something that could vaguely be described as home. It was impermanent but well-lived in, there were camping chairs by the window but a bedframe with a real mattress in the loft. That in and of itself was more roots than Lena felt she had put down since the boy of Nazareth walked, she now owned a possession that couldn’t fit inside of a hold-all bag. It was progress.

“One of these days you’re going to break and finally cuddle with me, I know it.” Kara grins and slips under the covers, hogging more than her share. “It must be terrifying for you.”

“I’ve known you for a century and watched you die three dozen times, that’s already enough intimacy,” Lena shrugs and re-reads the same sentence her brain keeps refusing to absorb. “Plus one bed was cheaper than two.”

“So you never think about sex, like, in general?”

“Fucking or making love?” Lena laughs, but she doesn’t wait for clarification. “Sometimes, but I think you’re old enough to know that sometimes doesn’t mean with persistence or intention. It just means… _sometimes_.” She puts the book down. “And you?”

“Sometimes,” Kara says instantly, her pink cheeks bunching into a faint smile. “In lovely moments I remember and so, yes, sometimes I do think about it.”

“It’s been… six years since your last heat?” Lena does the math. “That’s a once a decade, average. We said a hundred and fifty years. That’s fifty left? So just a few more to get through, then you can play the field. Just don’t bring boys back here.” She becomes fidgety and terse.

“You think we’ll still be here in fifty years?” Kara knits her brows together curiously, then she props her chin on her hand.

Lena realises she doesn’t have an answer to that. But she hopes so, she likes having a bed and a bookshelf. It doesn’t make the drumming stop but it’s something towards feeling a little less unhuman.

It isn’t a state of forever, it’s just sometimes, it’s just once in a while, but for now she hopes it doesn’t end too quickly. She likes having a bookshelf, she’s been thinking about getting a reading lamp to go with it. Another fifty years would be okay by her, she decides.

***

Sometimes, Lena dreams of a Heaven that’s been waiting a very long time for her arrival. It’s the only time she dreams of a place she has yet to visit, a place she craves to be.

A muddy creek with wild horses trotting through, an overgrowth of flowers that hug the water’s edge, a wife lost to time who laughs and tries to catch minnow in her tanned bare hands. There’s two children sitting in the distance, thick jet-black hair dancing in the breeze, four little feet kicking through the shallow. Lena grins. Her mate stops and smiles back.

Did she have this once upon a time? Did they wade through sunkissed water and love one another fiercely while the fish swam by and their children played?

Lena hopes that Heaven is all the lovely memories that time stole the long way around. She hopes, most of all, that it’s silent, exactly the way it is in her dream. No more drumming, nothing but the breeze.

***

A hundred and twenty-eight years.

Lena awakes to a sweating, wriggling body accidentally thumping her with cold feet. When she takes stock of reality, her bleary eyes adjusting, that’s when she hears the stifled pained whimper and smells the pheromones.

“I’ll get the paracord—”

“No,” Kara clambers and presses hands on her shoulders to keep her to the bed. “Stop, enough. If not now, then when?” She shakes. “I want you, Lena. _You_.” She takes her cheeks softly, trying to make her see. “A hundred and twenty-eight years, and I’m still asking.”

Lena knows she’s going to be in for the silent telling-off of the epoch the next time she dares to have a dream. But, her resolve isn’t what it used to be. Not even close. Her body responds before her brain can string a thought, her knuckles tight around Kara’s biceps, her lips pushing forward for the kiss while her cock grows and hardens.

She is an old, lonely god who has suffered enough.

They both have, Lena thinks.

If she is supposed to be nervous about all the skill she has forgotten as she was the last time they got this close to the wire, then she is anything but. Kara is not crying and pleading, but nor is she silent, she is alive and laughing and it makes Lena weakly grin.

Their shirts are pulled off, underwear tugged down, and the pressure of Kara’s soft belly resting on top of her own makes her ache in good ways. Kara is solid, and she is warm, and Lena stops caring about the drums. They’re still pounding, but she does not mind.

Lena is tentative in her ministrations despite the craving to pin and conquer. She takes a puffy nipple softly, feels it stiffen beneath her tongue and then press hard against her mouth and teeth. Kara moans, her fingers digging into Lena’s collarbones for purchase, her chest push-pulling with ecstatic little gasps.

“I’ll be gentle,” Lena promises into her ribcage.

Kara’s eyes grow wide. “Please don’t,” she shakes her head.

When their bodies shift and roll their positions, when the cloud moves and lets moonlight into the bell tower, Lena feels a woman’s eyes shift down and take in her body for the first time in…

There’s no point in trying to remember lasts or befores, Lena realises.

It’s now, it’s here, it’s real and she wants this. Lena doesn’t care about anything else, not the drums, not the forever behind or ahead, none of it.

Kara’s eyes land between her hips, her languid breaths adjusting, and it only serves to make Lena harder. That’s all Lena feels capable of thinking about. The hardness between her thighs, and how she craves to thrust and fuck until she cannot stay hard another second more.

“You’re…” Kara seems dumbfounded, eyes twitching as though she couldn’t make sense of it. “You’re perfect. You’re so,” her hands slip around the back of Lena’s neck and pull her down. “Beautiful,” she whispers into the kiss, then sucks her tongue.

The kisses were a polite frenzy, a hundred years worth of patience unleashed. Kara’s lips taste of nothing comparable, it’s distinctly her, distinctly wonderful, and it makes a growl erupt from the back of Lena’s throat into the plump lips pecking and kissing her mouth.

Lena feels soft wet lips on the tip of her stiff cock. It makes her uncomfortably aware of her body. She suddenly wants to throttle the little crybaby and fuck her until it hurts, until she cries, until she is too full of cum and bruised soreness to put up a fight against Lena’s finished body. It takes every ounce of self-control, her muscles becomes tight and rigid as a result.

“What?” Kara teases, tracing her fingers along a tight, tensing jaw. “You think you’re enough to finish what the CatCo building couldn’t? Do your worst, please, please—” That does it, Lena decides. “Fuck!” Kara hisses as she is filled and stretched without warning.

A thousand years of celibacy does things to a woman, Lena can now say with some sense of certainty. She had imagined that she would be frantic, pounding, wild and unhinged, but it isn’t so simple. Lena presses her hips until she can’t press any deeper, breath stuttering in her lungs, then she grabs Kara by the hung jaw and digs her hard into the pillows just to keep her there. _Just to keep her still._

Warm, wet, tight and clenching, it’s enough to make Lena want to explode and burst a knot. She wants to hold out, wants to savour it, her fingers tighten around Kara’s panting face, her palm pushing weight down through the crybaby’s skull, pinning her like a starved apex predator.

Lena pulls and then pushes hard, thrusting slowly, filling every last little bit of her as meaningfully as possible. Kara wiggles her jaw when it’s finally released, despite the soreness she puts it back to work and cranes forward to nip and suck Lena’s collarbone as her hips soothe a hundred-year itch. It makes Lena shiver, it makes her pound hard and start to fuck the whimpers right out of her.

***

Kara awakes the next morning to bright rays of sunlight and an empty bed. She imagines Lena in the kitchen already—well, there isn’t a kitchen, but there’s a camping stove by the radio—and she imagines Lena pensive and hanging over it, relaxed and unsure what to do because of the fact, hopefully cooking bacon and brewing mugs of tea at the very least.

Her insides ache in the best way possible, her muscles are sore, and her teeth perfectly remember the flat of Lena’s shoulder when the knot pressed deep and the stars glittered her vision into galaxies and constellations. Kara rolls over and feels out the sensations in her body. Privately, she hopes for another round or two.

There’s a note on the pillow.

_I’ve gone for a walk to clear my head._

_I’ll be back soon._

***

When Lena had awoke that morning, she had braced herself for the disappointment, for the war drums, for the metronome that had beaten her skull every waking moment since the beginning of the holocene.

But Lena had awoken to silence: breathtaking, complete, ethereal silence. It required a walk in order to process her thoughts. A good, thorough, long walk. And if Kara had been long gone by the time she got back, then that would have been understandable. It was… a long walk, indeed.

But when Lena gets back the camping chairs remain by the window, still unmoved. The butane stove hasn’t been packed up and taken for a prolonged wander. The radio is still turned on low, still crackling, just as she had left it.

There’s even a warm mug of tea waiting on the coffee table for her. As though Kara always makes a spare, just in case.

“You’re back then?” Kara doesn’t look over the top of her book, but her jaw grinds and flexes with the anger she’s holding back. “Two years is one hell of a stroll, Lena.” She nods severely.

“I had a long list of thoughts to process, plus a few errands to run.” Lena digs her hands in her pockets, rocking slightly on her feet. “I take it you’re upset?”

Kara just nods and says nothing, but she almost-violently flicks the page of her book. “To say the least,” she murmurs.

“Can I show you something important?”

“If you’re planning on staying then I think you better.” Kara angrily throws the book aside. “Two years is a long, long walk.”

Lena just hangs there guiltily, but then she opens her satchel and starts to pull things out: papers, drawings, all of the evidence she had managed to gather on her big stroll. That’s all she was trying to do, she thinks: learn and let go.

“I started and once I started... I had to finish,” Lena explains but somehow manages to explain nothing. “I figured you would never stop wanting answers, who I am, who I was.” She hands Kara a stack of well-researched facts. “So I went looking. There were some unremembered memories I needed to say goodbye to.”

Kara inhales deeply, her eyes shifting over the curated items in her hands. “Did you find what you were looking for?” She glances back at Lena.

“Oh yes, I found it before I left for my walk.” Lena smiles. “That was why I had to say goodbye to them, _to her_.”

There’s a photograph in Kara’s hands of a cave painting, it’s two ancient women sat by water, wild horses in the background, children on the distant shoreline sat among the flowers. Kara stares at it, nodding, angry but also… not as angry as she was before.

“Do you remember them?” Kara asks more gently than what Lena feels she’s owed.

“No,” Lena admits. “And that’s sad, but it became less and less important.”

“It did?”

“To tell you the truth,” Lena inhales, and she still isn’t used to silence but that’s all there is now — no more drums. “To tell you the truth, I just wanted to come home to you.”

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